The Nightmare Before Christmas
by JamesLuver
Summary: Modern AU. Not everything goes quite according to plan in the Bates household on Christmas Day.


**A/N:** This is my entry to **batesessecretservices** ' Banna Secret Santa Exchange 2017, and my gift is for **yourenotevenirish**! I hope you have had a lovely day and got all the things that you wished for. Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, everyone! :)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

 _The Nightmare Before Christmas_

These days, Christmas seemed to be coming around even more quickly than normal; it barely seemed more than a few months since the last time the house had been dressed up to the nines. These days, it gave John a sense of growing nostalgia that he had never thought he'd feel. Before, when he had been alone and bitter and a different man, he hadn't cared a whit about the passing of time. Most of the time, when he had been drinking himself into oblivion, he hadn't cared whether he woke up in the morning or not. The years made no difference to him, except to mark out the times that he had been a disappointment to his mother.

And then he had met Anna. And then he had started a family with her. And then it had become a whole different ballgame.

Children changed a person, there was simply no denying it. When he had first met Anna, he had wished that he could slow time right down, to ensure that he never wasted a single precious moment that he could spend with her.

These days, he wished he could freeze time completely. His children were growing up far too quickly, like little weeds. Next week, Jack would be seven. Christ, the time had passed him by in the blink of an eye. He was coming to an age where any Christmas might be his last one for believing in the magic of the season. Which made John even more determined to do everything in his power to make it the most special one his son had ever known, for he wanted Jack to be able to carry those memories with him for the rest of _his_ life.

It was something that Anna agreed with wholeheartedly. Together, they had gone to town in a way that they never had before, decorating almost every inch of the house with all manner of Christmas decorations, giving the whole place the feel of a enchanted grotto. Mary hated what they'd done. His mother thought them mad. Neither of them cared. The most important thing was ensuring their children's happiness. So far, it had proven to be a very successful gamble. Jack, Lily, and Grace had been beside themselves with excitement, though John suspected that Grace was feeding off her siblings' delight more than anything else. At just turned three, she was still just a little too young to understand the full spirit of Christmas.

On Christmas Eve, John dragged himself through the door, bone-tired but relieved. The office would be closed down until after the New Year, and it meant that he would be able to spend some quality time with his family. He was careful never to neglect them, never working later than he had to, but there was still something satisfying about knowing that for the next couple of weeks he could dedicate all of his time to the ones that he loved the most. No doubt each of his children would be eager for him to play with their new toys from Santa, and now he had the time to distribute between all three of them equally, saving some time for Anna along the way. She deserved to be pampered at this time of year, and he was determined to see that that happened.

"I'm home!" he called, leaning his cane in the corner as he shrugged off his coat and hung it over the bannister.

"I'm in the kitchen," Anna shouted.

John made his way towards the sound of her voice, breathing in deeply as he went. Something smelled delicious. Anna had been baking, if his nose was to be believed.

When he opened the kitchen door, it was to stumble on to a scene of sweet domesticity. Jack was standing on a stool by the worktop, a tea cosy perched on top of his head. His tongue was poking out of his mouth as he concentrated most intensely on his work. Lily, on the other hand, looked up at once as he entered, pushing her chair back with such force that it clattered over.

"Hi, Daddy!" she squealed, racing towards him on stocky little legs, her own tea cosy falling down over her eyes. John huffed a little as her full weight made him stumble, but he caught his balance, resting his hand on top of the tea cosy.

"Hello, my darling," he said. "Do I get a kiss?"

She nodded enthusiastically, and he bent down to heft her up into his arms, grunting slightly as he settled her weight over his left side. Lily snuggled closer at once, her kiss sloppy as it smacked against his cheek. He held her all the tighter, breathing in the scent of cinnamon on her skin. It seemed impossible to him that she was already five. Where had that time gone? It seemed just yesterday that she had been a tiny, squalling baby, and he had been the proudest man alive to announce that he was the father to a much longed-for daughter.

"Have you had a nice day?" he asked her.

She nodded. "We watched Christmas films with Mummy and now we're making mince pies for Santa! And gingerbread too, look!"

"And what's with this?" he said, gently straightening the tea cosy on top of her blonde curls.

"Jack wanted to wear a chef's hat like Alfred does and Mummy said I could wear one too if I wanted! Do you like it, Daddy?"

"It's lovely," he said, fighting back a chuckle. He met Anna's eyes over the top of their daughter's head to see her own shining with mirth. "And yours looks wonderful too, Mummy."

She only shook her head at his teasing. "Why, thank you, kind sir. We think it could be a new fashion craze, don't we, Lily?"

Lily nodded vigorously, and John's heart contracted in his chest at the look of delight on her face. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek in return for the one she had bestowed upon his, hugging her tighter to him. "Well, I can guarantee that no one will look as pretty as you two do. Not even the prettiest princess could hold a candle to you."

"Hark at your daddy, trying to butter us up," said Anna, turning to peer through the glass door of the oven at whatever she had in there.

"What does that mean?" Lily asked, looking to him for the answer.

"It means that I'm being very nice to you," said John. "Ignore your mummy. She's just teasing."

"You just want to be on Santa's nice list," said Lily matter-of-factly. "That's why you said it, Daddy."

John chuckled. "It's not a crime to want to get a present from Santa, you know. I'd be disappointed if I didn't."

Lily nodded with understanding. "Me too, Daddy. Do you think he got me the pony I asked for?"

John winced. Lily had been dogged in her pursuit for a pony. "Well, I suppose we'll find out in the morning. But we have to remember that Santa also has to think about the pony and whether it would be happy living here."

"It would be," his little girl told him decisively. "Bramley likes it here."

"Bramley is a cat," John said. "That's a little bit different from a pony. Anyway, let's wait and see what the morning brings first."

"Okay," said Lily, pouting. She gestured to be put down and John did so dutifully, limping further into the room as she toddled back to whatever she had been doing before. He moved closer to Anna, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

"I'll get flour on your suit," she warned.

"I can get it dry cleaned."

"Which costs a fortune. You can jolly well wait for your kiss."

"Is this what our marriage has come to?" he joked, reluctantly releasing her. He turned towards his son. "You're very quiet, Jacky."

"I'm concentrating," Jack said solemnly, not looking up from what he was doing. John stepped closer, moving to stand behind him.

"Well, you're doing a very good job," he said, not quite sure what he was looking at. At least he could tell what it was by the rich smell—gingerbread. Jack was busy smearing chocolate all over the odd shapes.

"Mummy says Santa likes chocolate gingerbread as well as mince pies," said Jack, spilling the melted chocolate on to the baking paper he had beneath his spoils.

"Did she now?" John smirked over his son's head. Anna studiously avoided his gaze. "Well, that's good to know."

"We're allowed a piece too," Lily piped up happily. "If we eat all our tea up."

"You can't argue with that. Fair is fair." John leaned against the counter. "So, what are these, Jack? Christmas trees?"

Jack looked up incredulously. "No, Daddy! They're _reindeer_! Look, we've done nine, one for each of them. And we did a sleigh and Santa too so he won't feel left out!"

"How considerate," John murmured. "And Santa won't be sad if you eat some of his reindeer?"

"We've done extra," said Jack. "So Santa will still have all of his reindeer to eat."

"Sounds like you've thought of everything." John glanced at his watch. "I should really head up and get changed. Do I get a kiss from you as well?"

Reluctantly, Jack put down his spoon and turned towards him. John presented his cheek to be kissed, and Jack laid a loud one there, winding his arms briefly around him. It was only for a second, with the importance of his job too much to resist, but in that moment John felt like a king. He had never expected to see the day where he had a son who looked up to him in the way that Jack did. It was a privilege.

"Pop your head in on Grace for me," said Anna. "She hasn't made a sound on the baby monitor, but that doesn't mean anything. For all I know she's wreaking havoc somewhere."

"I think you would have heard that," said John. It had come as the biggest of shocks to realise that Grace had taught herself how to climb out of her cot. No longer did they have the peace of mind that once they put her in the cot, she was stuck there until they got her back out. No, she had discovered a new reign of terror, a new way to bring chaos to them. The last thing they wanted to happen was for her to fall when she was climbing out and seriously hurt herself, and so they had made the inevitable decision to finally allow her to start using a proper bed. Which was another challenge in and of itself. There was no way to control her now. She could be up to any kind of mischief when their backs were turned. "I'll check her," he promised. "I didn't think she'd be napping, to be honest."

Anna gave a sheepish grin. "Honestly? I tried to tire her out. I couldn't very well keep an eye on her and on these two rascals baking at the same time. It was bound to end in disaster. I didn't want to be in A&E tonight with burns. It's not like she'd be interested in actually baking. She'd just want to throw flour around and stick her fingers in the chocolate. When she's a little bit older and she understands it more, then we'll have some lovely baking days together."

"I knew there was a reason I can never beat you at anything. You're far too wily for your own good."

"You're glad of my resourcefulness, thank you very much. And it's not like I neglected her. We had a very full morning all together. We went out to the park for a little walk and we went to the shops to pick up some last minute things for the dinner tomorrow, and then we watched some Christmas films all together, like Lily said. She could barely keep her eyes open by three, bless her."

"No wonder. I'll see if she's awake and I'll bring her down so she isn't missing out on any of the fun. I can keep her entertained while you finish up here."

"You'll have all on doing that. You know what the Bates women are like, John. Wills of iron, and you're hopeless at being firm with them."

"You wound me. I can be firm if I have to be."

Anna only rolled her eyes. "Go and get changed. You're getting under my feet. Go on, shoo."

"Charming. Fine, I know when I'm not wanted. Don't bother trying to kiss me later. You won't be getting one."

"If you say so."

"I do. I'll have you know that I can also have a will of iron when I need to. Anyway, I'll get changed and I'll take Grace with me while I go and pick my mother up. That should give you enough time to finish up here without us getting under your feet, shouldn't it?"

"It should. Thank you, love."

Shaking his head, John left the three musketeers there, poring over the work they were doing. He mounted the stairs and paused at their daughters' bedroom door, peering in. From what he could tell, Grace was still fast asleep. Well, that was all right. It would give him the chance to freshen up and change. He'd have to wake her then. If he let her sleep too long it might be a struggle to get her down tonight, and that was the last thing they needed on Christmas Eve. She did not understand the concept of Christmas just yet, but he didn't want her to ruin it for Jack and Lily. Especially when this could very well be the very last Christmas that Jack believed in the magic of the season. George had found out the truth a couple of years ago, and though Mary and Matthew had firmly stopped him from telling Jack the truth as well, John suspected that the young Crawley was simply dying to inform his younger friend of the cruel reality of the world. When the time was right, John wanted that responsibility to fall to himself and Anna. It was their job to soften the blow for him, to guide him through the other side without too much emotional scarring. It was a situation that would need very careful handling, and simply blurting it out with no finesse would not end well for any of them.

In the bedroom, he peeled off his dirty clothes and headed for the shower. A quick dunk would do wonders for washing away the grimes of the day and setting him up for the rest of the night. He lathered himself up quickly, then shaved away his five o'clock shadow with a towel around his waist. Feeling much more refreshed, he headed back to the bedroom, rooting through his drawers for a jumper and a pair of jeans. There, that felt much better.

And now it was time to wake Grace. Smiling, John tiptoed across the landing as quietly as he could, pushing the bedroom door open fully.

Grace looked like a little sleeping angel. Everything about her simply took his breath away. Both Jack and Lily favoured Anna's pale, pretty looks, but Grace had the dark Irish looks that had passed down generations of Bates men. At one time, he had thought it would be a curse for any child to favour him. He'd been glad when his elder two children had taken after Anna so startlingly. It was what he had always dreamed about, Anna in miniature, toddling along behind him and bending him to their every whim. There was no denying that Anna was simply breath-taking; any child of hers was sure to be stunning. Jack and Lily's sweetness had only confirmed it. Everyone commented on how gorgeous they were, and John could see them both breaking hearts in the future. A _long_ time away in the future, he hoped.

Anna had always been the opposite. She had always wanted a child who looked like him. He'd thought her mad. He was far from handsome. He was lucky that he'd managed to make beautiful children. He had prayed that his good luck streak would continue and he'd have yet another child like Anna round his legs.

But Grace had entered the world, all dark-haired and round, much bigger than either Jack or Lily had been at birth. From the moment he had set eyes on her, he'd known that he wasn't going to get his wish this time. The resemblance, even as a tiny, wrinkly baby, had been staggering. She had looked so much like him that it had taken his breath away, from the little round cheeks to the nose. It ought not to have worked, not when he thought so little of himself, and yet, somehow, it did. She was _gorgeous_. Every day, he was in awe of her.

Padding over to the bed, he sank down onto it beside her and ran his fingers through her hair, marvelling at the sight of her little china doll face for a few more moments before saying softly, "Princess."

She stirred only slightly and, grinning, John bent down to press a kiss to her hair.

"Come on, darling," he cooed. "It's time to wake up."

"No," she whined, trying to bat his hand away with her tiny one. She was her mother's daughter in that respect: there was nothing on earth she hated more than being woken up. Under normal circumstances they would never bother her until she was ready, but this was not just any day. He hoped that she would cheer up soon enough when she caught wind of her siblings' excitement. He didn't want her to be grouchy all night.

"Sorry, my darling," he said. "Daddy doesn't like waking you if he doesn't have to. But don't you want to join in the fun with us? We need to go and pick Granny up before Santa comes so we can be all together."

Her dark eyes blinked open at that. "Santa?"

"That's right, Santa. He'll be coming tonight and bringing you something nice. But you have to be asleep for him coming because if you're awake he won't leave you presents."

"Why?" Grace's eyes widened further as she looked at him.

"Because he's magical," said John. "And you're not supposed to see him. That's why he works at night time. It's very important to him. Now, how about we get you up and dressed, hmm? Then we can go and fetch Granny, and we can have something to eat. I have it on good authority that we have something nice for dessert."

Grace perked up at that, struggling in to a sitting position and holding her arms up to signal that she wanted John to pick her up. He did so at once, settling her over his left hip with a groan as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Ah, I can see that Mummy has left your clothes out for me," he said, noting the sweet little outfit hanging over the wardrobe door. "Were you a princess?"

"Angel," Grace said sleepily. "Cwistmas."

"Ah, yes, of course." John hooked the hanger down and let her back down to the floor. "How about we get your pyjamas off, hmm?"

They worked together to get her dressed, John keeping up a steady stream of chatter as he worked. Grace's speech was still developing, though she was coming on in leaps and bounds and, from the intelligent glint in her eyes, obviously understood most of what was being said as they talked to her. It probably helped her to have two older siblings around who could show her the ropes and build her confidence. Not that she would ever be accused of being shy. Full of beans, she was.

When she was ready and they had taken a trip to the toilet so that she wouldn't need it en route to his mother's, John guided her back downstairs.

"We'll just tell Mummy that we're going," he said. "And she'll want to give you a kiss goodbye."

The kitchen didn't look a thing like it had when he had first walked in through the door. Gone were the flour spillages, the array of messy bowls. Everything was back in perfect, pristine condition, all gleaming surfaces. Their spoils now sat cooling, a mountain of mince pies on one tray, the gingerbreads on another. The tea cosies had been removed; the chef's roles had been fulfilled. Anna was now busy setting the table with her two faithful helpers trailing behind. She beamed when she set eyes on the two of them.

"There you are!" she said. "I thought you'd got lost."

"No. We were just having a very serious discussion."

"Oh? About what?"

"Santa, of course. We're just off to pick Mother up. We won't be long."

"Tea's cooking, so it should be ready for when you get back."

"Wonderful. See you in a bit."

Anna abandoned the cutlery to feather a kiss against Grace's cheek before moving to do the same to him. He relished the feel of her lips against him.

"Right," he said, his voice coming out oddly thick even to his own ears. "I'll see you soon."

He picked up his keys from where he had left them in the hall and led Grace out into the night. He buckled her in to her car seat and started the engine. The journey across town was a short one, and soon he was pulling up outside his mother's bungalow.

Initially, he had moved up to Downton alone, wanting to escape the bad memories he had in London, but eventually his mother had expressed a wish to join him up there. The house was getting too big and lonely the older she got, and she wanted to be nearer to the only child she had. John certainly couldn't begrudge her that. He had helped her to sell the house in London and they had found the perfect property on the outskirts of the town. It had worked out wonderfully for all parties involved. Not only had his mother ended up moving up north to be closer to him, she had also gained a whole new family. First in Anna, who she had, despite his assertions that they were nothing more than good friends, seen right through straight away, and then in the grandchildren who had come in to the world slowly but surely. She had often told him that she had been blessed by an angel. John was not a religious man, but he was inclined to agree. Sometimes, he felt that Anna had been sent from a higher plane, too. She had improved his life in ways he could never express, and he would forever be grateful to her for never giving up on him, even when she had reason to do so. She could have walked away from him at any point during their friendship. He knew that it had not been easy on her, to be in a constant state of uncertainty about his feelings for her. She could have said that she was tired of playing games, that she deserved better. She _had_ always deserved better. And yet she had still disagreed, had waited for him to be ready. He would never be able to thank her enough for that. She always told him that the fact that he had helped her make three beautiful children and the stable family home she had always craved was all the thanks she would ever need.

She was wrong, but it made his heart soar nevertheless.

Switching off the ignition, he turned to Grace.

"I'm just going to help Granny with her bags," he told her. "I'll be one minute, darling. You'll still be able to see me, all right?"

"Yes, Daddy!" she squealed, seemingly unfazed by the darkness. John unbuckled his belt, slid out of the car, locked it behind him, and trudged up the front path to his mother's front door. He knocked and stood shivering in the cold, breath misting in the freezing air as he waited for her to answer. She did so eventually, her face lighting up when she saw him.

"Ah, Johnny, there you are!" she said.

"Hello," he said, leaning in to kiss her. "Are you all set?"

She gestured at the overnight bags she had sitting in the hall. "Aye, lad, I am."

"Great. Let me get those for you."

"I'm not an invalid," she complained as he bent down to heft her bags up, but she didn't try to stop him. He was glad about that. He had noticed a change in his mother in recent times, and it frightened him. She was frailer than she had once been, her eyesight was failing, and although she vehemently denied it, he suspected that she'd had a fall in the house because there had been a terrific bruise on her arm. Anna had said that they would discuss things in the New Year. Neither of them wanted to take away her independence, but nor did they want her to remain on her own if there was a danger that she might hurt herself. He knew that she would be stubborn and insist that she was absolutely fine on her own, but they would not be doing her a kindness. There were things they could do, of course. They might be able to manage between them if they had a rota where one of them popped in to check on her every day. If the worst came to the worst, she would move in with them. They would have to find the room and they would manage. They always did. He knew that was the best alternative they had. It would destroy her if she ended up in a nursing home because she had always been so fiercely independent, and he couldn't do that to her. At least it would be slightly less hurtful if she moved in with the people who loved her the most.

He placed her bags in the boot while she said hello to her youngest grandchild and struggled in to the passenger seat. In no time at all they were cruising back across town to their house.

It was lovely, seeing the house illuminated as it was. They'd placed various trinkets on the front garden, including the mandatory Christmas tree, Santa signs, a light-up reindeer with a penguin to match, and lots of flashing lights. They'd done it for the kids more than anything, but John had to admit that there was something very cosy and welcoming about seeing a house trimmed up to the nines. It gave off the familial feeling that he had longed for in his private life for so long.

"You take Grace back up to the house while I grab your bags," he told his mother as they undid their car doors. That was a safe task for her to perform. Grace only had little legs, which meant that she would match her granny's pace perfectly, and it meant that he could get her things inside with minimal fuss. He gathered her things together and limped after them.

"Hello, Margaret," said Anna, coming out into the hall to greet them as they entered. She hugged her and kissed her cheek, then bent down to heft Grace against her hip. "How are you?"

"Much better for seeing you, lassie," his mother said.

"Oh, charming," John commented. "You never say that to me."

"That's because you usually bring trouble to my door."

"I haven't brought any trouble to your door in over ten years."

"Oh, please. You brought me enough sleepless nights when you were worrying about your Anna here, tormenting yourself stupid that you weren't good enough for her. You might not have said a word out loud, but a mother knows these things."

John rolled his eyes. "Thank you. I'll just take these things upstairs."

"Don't be long," said Anna. "I'll be dishing tea up."

"I'll help you," his mother said promptly. "And where are my other two grandchildren?"

"In the kitchen. Come on through…"

Their voices faded away as John mounted the stairs. He took the bags through to the spare bedroom and placed them on the floor. He had to admit, he did enjoy having his mother round. She always stayed over for a few days at Christmas, even though she only lived across town. It was nice for them to all be under one roof.

Traipsing back downstairs, he paused in the doorway of the kitchen, drinking in the sight before him. He couldn't help but smile. Jack and Lily, carefully making sure that everything on the table was adjusted just so, with Grace at their heels. Anna and Margaret at the counter, serving the food on to the plates. It was a sight of sweet domesticity.

He counted his blessings that he had such a wonderful family.

* * *

The rest of the evening passed quickly. They played a game of Ludo, John sitting with Grace on his knee and Anna and Margaret partnering up so that Jack and Lily could have their own sets of counters. Then, when eight o'clock neared, Anna stood up.

"Right," she said. "I think you need to call it a night. You don't want to still be awake when Santa comes, otherwise he won't leave you any presents."

This was clearly something that the kids didn't want to happen. John hid his smile at how fast they scrambled to their feet.

"We need to get the treats out for Santa!" Jack shouted. "Come on, Lily!" With that, he set off pounding for the kitchen, his sister at his heels. Grace wriggled on John's lap.

"Down, Daddy!" she shouted. "Want to help!"

John chuckled. "All right, love." He set her down, and she went hurtling after her siblings.

"I'll go and supervise," said Anna. "I won't be long."

John watched her go for a moment, then turned to his mother when he heard her chuckling. "What?"

"Nothing, son," she said sagely.

"It must be something."

"I was just thinking that you look like a ruddy lovesick fool, looking after her like that. It's sweet. Not every married couple has the same bond that you have."

John knew that she was talking from experience. She had loved his father once, a long time ago. From what little she spoke of him, he knew that she had loved him very much at the beginning. But the years had passed and the drink had taken hold, and suddenly he wasn't the same man that he had been before. He could still remember the darker parts of his childhood vividly. When his father was so drunk that he didn't realise what he was doing—or so he said. Sometimes, when he looked at his mother's dear, sweet face, he still heard the sharp, stinging slaps, her cries of shock. She had endured so much that she should never have put up with.

She would not put up with her son being treated in the same way. The first time that his father had raised a hand to him had been the very last time they had shared a house with him. His mother had taken him away that very night, and they had travelled to London to start a whole new life. He had never heard from his father since. He didn't even know if he was still alive. Not that it would make any difference to him. He had no respect for the man who had helped to give him life. Could not even fathom what monster could even consider hurting their own child. He would do absolutely anything to protect his children. The mere thought of hurting them left him sick to the stomach.

"Johnny?"

He came back to himself with a jolt to find his mother staring at him, concern twisting the wrinkles on her face.

"I'm all right," he said quickly.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." With a gargantuan effort, he forced himself away from the memories of the past to the wonderful present he had. There was so much to be thankful for these days.

So very, very much.

* * *

Ten o'clock came around slowly. Once the children had been tucked in as tight as church mice, John and Anna returned downstairs to watch a film. All three adults sat together, sipping cocoa that had Anna made, until the clock chimed. At that point, his mother excused herself for bed.

"I get so tired these days," she said. It was yet something else to worry about, but John forced it to the back of his mind. Christmas was almost upon them. Those kinds of worries were for another day, when the festivities were gone and real life prevailed. For now, they were all together and his mother was happy. It was enough.

And so, after she had departed, they sat snuggled up on the sofa, a Christmas film playing in the background. John had seen it a hundred times already, but he didn't mind. It meant that he didn't have to pay any attention to it. Instead he could lose himself in the flickering flames of the fire, idling strands of Anna's hair between his fingers. She felt so good resting against his chest like that, and he loved that they could just _be_ together like this. No distractions. No responsibilities. Just each other.

But, of course, that wasn't strictly true. They always had responsibilities. And John couldn't be more thankful for them. He stretched now, Anna whining as he disturbed her.

"What are you doing?" she murmured.

"Santa has a job to complete. I thought he ought to get it done now so that we can head up to bed."

"Tired, are you?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure if 'tired' is the right word." He laughed when she swatted his chest.

"Be off with you," she scolded. "Honestly."

He pressed a kiss to her hair before easing out from under her. "I won't be long."

He left her there to head upstairs, going straight for the back of his wardrobe. He felt around for a few moments before bringing out his prize, triumphant.

It was a tradition they had started on Jack's second Christmas, not wanting the cat to be out of the bag too soon. He fingered the red velvet material thoughtfully.

Santa really did have a job to do.

* * *

John woke just as the first grey fingers of light were tinging the blackness. He blinked sleepily, burying his head in Anna's hair as he acclimatised to being awake once more.

He was surprised that he had woken naturally. He had expected Jack, Lily, and Grace to be there, jumping on the bed and yelling that Santa had been. But there was still blissful silence. Did he dare believe that he might get another hour in bed with Anna?

It was a nice wish to have. She was still sleeping soundly in the circle of his arms, her breathing deep and even, her cheeks pink from the warmth of their bedsheets. He remembered the way that, just hours earlier, her skin had sparked against his, and he shivered. It was the only thing that he lamented about family life: it meant that he could no longer sleep naked by his wife's side all night, as they had in the past. At any point any one of their children could come wandering in, and the last thing that he wanted was any kind of awkward situation.

He had just closed his eyes and started to drift back off to the cadence of Anna's breathing when the door creaked open. Excited whispers filled the room, then the shuffle of little feet. In the next moment, the bed jolted, and there were two wriggling bodies over them.

"Wake up, Daddy!" Lily hissed, almost winding him as she scrabbled over him.

"Wha—" Anna murmured, sounding almost drunk. Grace launched herself at her at once, and Anna groaned, trying to struggle up in to a sitting position as Grace's arms and legs wrapped around her.

"It's Christmas Day," said John, moving to mirror his wife as Lily clambered all over him. He snugged her tight to him, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Merry Christmas, darling."

Lily beamed at him, but there was trepidation in her face too. She snuggled closer to him, putting her mouth by his ear as she whispered shyly, "Daddy, can you check if Santa has been?"

He grinned, squeezing her tight. "All right, if you want me to." But then he paused, drawing her back. "Hang on, hasn't he left you stockings in your room?" Those stockings had been placed at the foot of Lily and Grace's beds. There was no way that they would have gone unnoticed by two excited little girls. What the hell had happened to them?

Lily shook her head, pouting. "No. So we don't know if he's come yet or not. Will you please check for us?" The anticipation and fear swirled over her little face. "I asked Jack, but—"

"Where _is_ Jack?" said John. Every year as far back as he could remember, Jack had fearlessly hurtled downstairs, yelling for all to hear that Santa had been, checking on the spoils that had been left for them. Even if the stockings were missing—an impossibility—Jack would have gone downstairs anyway to do some investigations of his own.

"Jack says he isn't coming yet," Lily informed him.

"What?" said Anna sharply. "Why not, love? Does he not feel very well?"

Lily shrugged, evidently not concerned about her brother's mysterious behaviour when there was the promise of presents. "I don't know."

"I'll go and see him," John offered. "You stay here with Mummy for a minute. I'll check to see if Santa has been in a few minutes, all right?"

Lily and Grace nodded, Lily clambering beneath the quilt so that she could snuggle in the warmth next to her mummy. John snagged his dressing gown from the back of the door and shrugged it on as he limped onto the landing. Jack's behaviour was completely unheard of. It would be a shame if he was ill on Christmas Day.

He knocked softly on his son's door and cracked it open just slightly.

"Jack?" he whispered. "Jack, are you all right?"

No answer. Was he asleep? Somehow, he didn't think so. Jack's breathing wasn't right for that. John padded further into the room, sinking down on the edge of the bed.

"Jack?" he repeated.

Jack remained turned resolutely away from him, giving no indication that he'd heard. John tried again, laying his hand against his son's back.

"Jack," he said softly. "Talk to me. What's wrong? It's Christmas Day. You should be bouncing like Lily and Grace are. Don't you want to see if Santa has left you any presents?"

"No," said Jack at last, his voice muffled. "I don't care."

"That can't be true," John coaxed. "Every boy and girl cares about whether Santa left them any presents."

"Well, I don't. Leave me alone, Daddy!"

It sounded as if Jack was almost in tears. John backed up hastily. "All right, all right. What about Mummy? Shall I send her instead?"

" _No!"_ Jack said. "I don't want Mummy!"

John was at a loss of what to do. Perhaps his mother would have better luck? She'd always had a gentle touch.

"Okay," he said. "I'll leave you for now. Lily and Grace want to know if Santa has been so I'm going to check for them. Are you sure you don't want to come down and open your presents? They won't be able to wait."

"I'm not coming," Jack said sulkily. "Let them open theirs. I don't care."

"Jack—" John started, leaning over to hug him, but Jack wriggled away from him ferociously.

"I told you to leave me alone!" he yelled, and there were definitely tears now.

John backed off hastily. "Fine. Fine, I'm leaving you. I'll check on you later, all right?" He'd give his son a little time to cool off, but then he would dig deep to get to the bottom of it. Something must have happened. A little boy did not just suddenly have a huge change of heart about Christmas overnight. It did not stack up.

He left his son curled up on his side under the covers, heartsick.

"Santa's been," he said with no feeling as he entered his bedroom again. "Why don't you girls go and get your slippers and your dressing gowns on before we go downstairs? You should wake Granny, too, so she doesn't miss anything. But don't jump on her like you did on us. Just wake her up gently, all right?"

"Okay, Daddy," Lily said eagerly, wriggling out of bed. "Come on, Gracie!" She took her sister's hand and practically dragged her from the room, leaving John and Anna alone. Anna had not taken her eyes away from his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked anxiously. "Is Jack ill?"

"Honestly? I have no idea."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anna frowned, clambering out of bed. "He's either ill or he's not."

"Well, he doesn't _seem_ ill, but there's something bothering him. He shouted at me to leave him alone and he won't look at me."

"What?" said Anna, alarmed. "I have to go to him!"

She made to hurry past him, but he grabbed her wrist. "I'm not sure that that's the right thing to do right now. He was adamant that he didn't want either of us. I'm going to send Mother and see if she has any luck with him. She has a way of getting the truth out of anyone." It had always seemed like a magic trick to him, how quickly she could make him crumble and own up to misdemeanours and problems.

Anna didn't look convinced. "But he's my son. It's my job."

"Well, you can if you want to," he said helplessly. She was right: he could not stop her from being with her son if that was what she wanted. "But I truly don't believe that it's a good idea right now. I don't want to make him withdraw even more."

"And we can't just let this fester," Anna argued. "He's six, for God's sake. A child. A _baby_. If there's something bothering him, I want to know. He's my son."

What could he say to that? She had every right to feel that way. Jack was her only son, possibly the only son she would ever have. As much as he had a bad feeling about it, he could not stand in her way. It wouldn't be right.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, you go and see if you can get him to talk. I'll take the girls downstairs. I'll put some breakfast on and make some hot chocolate. That ought to keep them preoccupied long enough for you to talk to him."

Anna nodded. "Good. I won't be long." With that, she hurried from the room. John hoped that his gut feeling was wrong, and that she would be able to get to the bottom of the mystery. But he had not liked the way that Jack had completely clammed up at the mention of his mummy, nor the look of anguish on his little face. If there was one way that Jack was his father's son, it was in his brooding. Anna often despaired of him for that.

"He's too young to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders," she fretted. "I swear he heard you brooding when he was in the womb and it rubbed off on him."

Lily and Grace were just emerging from his mother's room when he entered the hallway.

"Did you get Granny up?" he asked, hoping that he sounded natural.

Lily nodded. "She said she's coming in a minute."

"Great. Well, we'll head on downstairs. We can't start opening presents until Mummy and Granny come, but how about you help me get breakfast started?"

Lily nodded reluctantly, and he shepherded the two of them downstairs. He allowed them to pop their heads in on the sitting room as they passed, and derived a stab of joy at the looks of sheer wonder on their faces despite the anxiety gnawing at his insides.

"There are so many!" Lily breathed, her eyes like saucers as she took in the veritable grotto in front of them. "Which are mine, Daddy?"

"We'll have to have a look in a minute," said John. "First let's get breakfast started. It won't be long, love, I promise."

Lily pouted. "Okay."

"Good girl," said John, bending to sweep Grace into his arms as she tried to squeeze past him. "How does hot chocolate sound?"

Upon entering the kitchen, his two girls let out shrieks of delight and headed straight for the spot where they had left their offerings the previous night.

"Look, Daddy, look!" Grace yelled. "Mince pies gone!"

"And the gingerbread too!" said Lily. "Look, he left some crumbs behind. And Rudolph's carrot is gone! Do you think he enjoyed it?"

"I'm sure he loved it," said John, thinking of how it was now nestled back in the fridge, ready to be consumed by them all later on. "And I'm sure he shared it with all the other reindeer because he's such a nice fellow."

"Look!" Grace demanded again, her magpie-sharp eyes spying the edge of paper that he had tucked under the plate only a few hours ago. She seized it at once, opening it with such enthusiasm that she almost tore it. Lily snatched at it at once, making her little face grow red with indignation. "No!"

"I can read," Lily said reasonably. "You can't. So I should have it."

"How about you read it out loud so that Grace knows what it says too?" said John, keen to avoid another altercation between his children. Lily brightened at that. She certainly liked being the centre of attention when she could be, and she loved being worshipped by her younger sister.

"Okay," she said. "I will do that." She cleared her throat importantly. "It says, 'Dear Jack, Lily, and Grace, than you very much for your lovely treats. I really enjoyed the gingerbread. Rudolph liked his carrot so much that it made his nose flash red with delight. I hope you like all of your gifts. Be good boys and girls for your mummy and daddy. Merry Christmas, ho, ho, ho!'" She looked up from the page, grinning toothily. "Santa wrote to us, Daddy!"

"That was very nice of him," said John. "How about we save it to show Mummy? Maybe Grace can show her this time."

Lily pouted, but acquiesced, much to his relief. "Okay."

"Good girl. Now, how about we get some breakfast started?"

He distracted them in the kitchen long enough to get a plate of toast ready, stacked high and saturated with butter. Six mugs of hot chocolate sat on the worktop; he'd put Jack's out more in hope than expectation. Bramley wound around his legs until he bent down to feed her, and she purred happily at her dish as she wolfed down her breakfast.

A few minutes later, Anna appeared in the threshold. One look at her face told him that her talk with Jack hadn't gone according to plan at all. His heart sank.

"Right, girls, head on through," he said to Lily and Grace. "I'll bring breakfast through. You can have a look through your gifts but don't open any yet. We all want to be there when you do."

The girls shot off at once. John doubted that they'd really been listening to him. Well, no matter. He turned to Anna.

"What did Jack say?" he asked urgently.

"He wouldn't tell me anything," said Anna. "Told me to go away, that he didn't want me in there." Her voice cracked, and tears bloomed in her eyes. John hurried over to her at once, sweeping her into his arms. She pressed her forehead to his chest. "I don't understand," she said, her voice muffled. "He was absolutely fine last night. Happy, so excited for Santa. And now this morning he won't even look at me. How can he change like that overnight?"

"There's got to be a simple explanation," John soothed. "Let's just give him a minute to himself to calm down. We'll send my mother up then to see if she can get any sense out of him. I promise, we're not going to let this fester. But if we push him too hard he might clam up even more. We'll have a happy Christmas, the same as we do every year. I promise you."

Anna managed a tremulous smile. "I believe you."

"Good. You should. I've never been wrong yet, have I?"

"You've been wrong about a great many things."

"Oh, charming."

"But I think you're right on this one. And it's never stopped me from loving you, has it?"

"You tell me. I bloody hope not, though."

"You've nothing to worry about, I promise. Shall we join the girls?"

John nodded. "Yes, all right."

Together, they headed for the sitting room, balancing the breakfast spoils between them.

"Where's Jack?" Lily demanded at once. "We're never allowed to open presents if we're not all here, that's the rule."

John exchanged a hopeless glance with Anna. "That's true, love."

"So where is he?"

"I'm wondering the same thing," said his mother with a frown. "The bairn should be bouncing from the roof now that Santa's has been to see him."

"We don't think he's very well," said John, shooting her a look that he hoped went right over his daughters' heads. It seemed his wish was answered, for neither of them seemed the slightest bit interested in anything other than their gifts. They sifted through each one, stroking the wrapping paper longingly, shaking them to try to ascertain what was inside.

"What do you mean, you don't think he's very well?" said his mother in a low voice. "Surely he hasn't come down with an illness?"

John shook his head. "No, it's not that. It appears to be more of an emotional matter, but I can't for the life of me think what it might be. I was hoping that you might go up there and coax it out of him. He won't speak to me, and it didn't go very well with Anna, either. Try and soften him up with toast and hot chocolate if you can."

"Of course I'll do it," said his mother promptly. "Don't worry, son. I've had plenty of practice in getting little boys to confess what they're really feeling. If I could break you, I can break anyone. No one could possibly be more of a nightmare than you were."

"I don't know about that," said Anna. "Jack is his father's son." Her feeble attempt at a joke did nothing to disguise the anxiety in her tone.

His mother reached across to pat her hand. "Don't worry, dearie. I'll sort it out. Give me some toast and a mug and I'll get him to talk to me."

"Thank you," said John, doing just that. "I appreciate it."

"Isn't that what grandmas are for? Sit tight. Perhaps let these two little tykes open a present or two so that they don't drive you mad. Jack's presents will wait for him."

"Perhaps we'll let them open a couple," Anna agreed reluctantly. "It won't do any harm."

"And you girls have got something to show Mummy, haven't you?" John added, remembering the note that Grace still clutched. That ought to buy them a little bit of time…

It seemed to take an age for his mother to reappear. Every glance at the clock heralded no new results, and John felt the knot of concern in his stomach growing with every passing second. From the look on Anna's face, she felt exactly the same way. They tried to take their minds off it by engaging with their daughters, finally relenting and allowing them to open a present each whilst cooing over the 'surprise' that was inside, but John could tell that Anna's heart, much like his own, wasn't truly in it. They would not be able to relax until they knew that their son was all right. He prayed that his mother was working her magic.

At long, long last, she reappeared. John leapt to his feet at once, ignoring the jolt of pain in his knee at his sudden movement.

"Well?" he said immediately. "Did he tell you?"

"He did," his mother said solemnly, and his heart seemed to simultaneously loosen and tighten. It produced an odd feeling in his chest.

"What did he say?" Anna asked impatiently. "Is it something we should be very worried about?"

"I think you need to talk to him yourself," said his mother. "You need to hear it from him."

"That doesn't sound at all reassuring. Why can't you just tell us? Then we'll be better equipped for facing him!" said John.

"Keep your voice down," said his mother reprovingly as Lily and Grace glanced at them curiously. "Just go upstairs now and talk to him. He said he'd speak to you. I'll keep the girls occupied while you do."

Anna bit her lip. "Let's go, John."

He nodded, his trepidation growing. "Yes, all right."

Leaving his mother in charge of the girls, the two of them climbed the stairs back up to their son's room. To John's relief, although Jack was still huddled under the covers, he was at least sitting up now, munching slowly on a piece of toast. He knocked on the outside of the frame.

"Can we come in?" he asked softly.

After a moment's pause, Jack nodded. Relief flooded through him. That was already a victory. He stepped in to the room and Anna followed behind him.

"Can we sit on the bed with you?" she asked. There was nowhere else to sit in Jack's room. He had a little desk where he did his drawings, but the chair would never even accommodate Anna, never mind him.

Jack shrugged. He wouldn't quite meet Anna's eye. John wondered what that was all about. Hopefully they would get to the bottom of that soon enough. He moved further in to the room, tentatively perching himself on the edge of Jack's bed. Anna sat herself on the other side, effectively wedging Jack in between them. Neither of them reached out to touch him just yet. John felt too afraid of what would happen if he did. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten him away, or, worse, be rejected.

"So, Granny says that we need to have a little chat with you," he said softly. "Do you think you can speak to us now?"

Jack shrugged again, still munching on his toast.

"Come on, baby," Anna beseeched. "You know that we only want to make you feel better. It's what we've always promised we'll do, isn't it? We just want to protect you and make you happy. If there's anything you're worried about, anything at all, you know that you can always trust us to do what we can to make things right."

"Mummy's right," John agreed. "I'm sure Granny told you the same, didn't she?"

Jack nodded.

"So trust us now, son. And if there's something we can make better for you, we'll do it in a heartbeat."

Jack played with the crumbs on his plate, not looking up. "I'm scared that you'll be mad. I'm scared of what will happen."

John exchanged a nonplussed look with his wife, the anxiety rising to new levels. "Jack…Have I ever given you reason to be afraid of me? Have I ever hurt you? Christ, I would _never_ lay a finger on you, I swear that on everything I hold dear. You and Lily and Grace mean the whole world to me, and I would never hurt you." It tore his heart to shreds to even contemplate that his children could be scared of him. He'd known that feeling all too well. If he ever gave his own children a reason to feel that way…well, it made him a monster.

As if she knew where his thoughts were travelling, Anna reached across and rested her hand on top of his. It steadied him. She always did. He managed a smile for her and turned back to their son. No, he had to stop thinking like that. He was nothing like his own father had been. He proved that to himself every day. And he had to remember just how much all three of his children loved him. If they were frightened of him they would not treat him the way that they did.

"I know," Jack whispered. "But…" His face was twisted in agony.

"But what?" John urged. "Talk to us, darling."

"I don't want you to leave," Jack mumbled at last, his face the very definition of misery.

"And what makes you think I would leave?" said John. "I don't know where you've got that idea from, Jack, but I promise it's not the case. I would never leave any of you. You're my family and I love you all so much. Granny told you that, didn't she?"

Jack nodded slowly.

"There you are, then. If I'm telling you that and Granny is telling you that, it must be true, mustn't it?"

"I guess," said Jack.

"So tell us what's bothering you. We're not going to be angry with you, we promise."

"But what if you're angry with someone else?" Jack whispered.

John frowned. "Who? Look, if someone has upset you, I can't promise not to be angry with them, but I will do my very best to sort it out without getting angry."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

It was deadly silent for a few moments. And then, determinedly not looking at Anna, Jack said, "I saw something that I shouldn't have. I saw Mummy with someone."

John was confused. "You saw Mummy with someone? What do you mean?"

Jack's lip trembled. "It was another man."

For a split-second, John's whole world crumbled around him. Those four words were words he had never expected to hear from anyone's mouth. As far as he was concerned, what he and Anna had was built to last. He had never entertained even the thought of anyone else since meeting Anna. Whilst he had never been able to understand what she saw in him, he had always assumed that the same could be said of her.

Had he been wrong all this time? Was there someone else, a younger man, more whole, more suitable? Was there someone else who made her feel things that he no longer could…?

As his sense of dread skyrocketed, he glanced across at Anna, terrified of what he might see in her face. Guilt, for one thing. Resignation. A plea for them to speak alone, so she could explain herself.

All he saw was pure confusion mirrored back at him. And he knew he had been a stupid, stupid man to entertain such thoughts for even the infinitesimal moment that he had. That was not who Anna was. She would never be that person.

"What do you mean, Jack?" she asked now. "Who did you see me with? I've never been with another man. You must be mistaken."

"I'm not!" said Jack, his blue eyes blazing. "You was, Mummy! And you were _kissing_ him!"

Anna spluttered. "Jack, don't say such things! I've _never_ kissed another man! It's only ever been your dad." She looked across at him, tears in her pleading eyes, as if willing him to see the truth of the matter. As mad and disturbing as this whole situation was, John couldn't help but trust in her. She wouldn't do that to him. She wouldn't do that to her family.

And yet…and yet what did Jack mean? He doubted that his son would make this up, either. He was not a vindictive child, and he clearly believed it to be true if it had upset him so much. This was too surreal for any words; it was as if he had stepped through the looking glass…

"Who did you see me kissing?" Anna said, an angry note veining through her voice now. "Tell me what he looked like."

"I know his name," said Jack.

"Then give it to us," said John. "Come on, darling. I'm not getting angry. I just want to get to the bottom of it, that's all." He needed to get this straight in his head before he decided what the hell he needed to do.

Jack glanced at his mum one more time before saying, voice wobbling, "It was Santa, Daddy. I saw Mummy kissing Santa Claus last night."

Stupefied silence reigned. John blinked at Anna, who had gone crimson. Now everything was falling in to place. And there was just one thought on John's mind:

Well, damn.

* * *

 _John pulled on the familiar red suit, checking himself in the mirror to ensure that everything was in order. He fixed the elastic fastenings of the beard around his ears and adjusted it until it was in perfect position. Sweeping the hat on to his head, he eyed himself critically. There. Perfect. The extra padding he had packed under his suit had been an ingenious idea. In this getup, he could even get a job as a Santa Claus._

 _Cautiously, he made his way on to the landing. All was silent around him. He was probably safe to go about his business. These days, he and Anna kept the presents locked away in the loft, where none of the children would stumble across them accidentally, and he reached up to pull the ladders down now, ascending into the gloom._

 _It took him several trips up and down to get all of the presents out, and a dull ache had started up in his knee by the time he had completed his task. But now the real fun began: going through each bag and separating the presents out into individual piles. It was nice to pick up each gift and try to remember what was inside, or else have a private moment to reflect just how quickly their children were growing up. John was probably in the minority when it came to actively taking part in the wrapping of the presents; Anna often commented on how much Cora complained that Robert seemed to leave all of the wrapping up to her. John was far from adept at that particular task, but it was one he liked to join in with with great enthusiasm. If nothing else, he could say that he had tried to take some of the burden away from Anna. She had enough on her plate at Christmas. The least he could do was help her in any way he could. Besides, he rather enjoyed it. Shabby though his handiwork might be, it could be a very soothing task at times. As long as Bramley wasn't in the room with him. It was another thing entirely then. She would sit herself in the middle of the wrapping up paper and refuse to move. If he tried to shift her, she would dig her claws in and rip clean through it, rendering it unusable. She was a law unto herself._

 _Anna was already sifting through the bags when he made his final journey downstairs, arranging them all in sacks personalised with their children's names. He went over to assist her at once, and they fell into a nice rhythm together, John passing the presents and Anna bagging them up. They worked in silence on the task, breaking it only with the occasional comment, moving in sync, and at last Anna stood back._

" _There," she said. "All done. That was quite a good night's work, Mr. Bates."_

" _Santa," he corrected her with a smirk. "And I just have two more tasks to complete."_

" _What are those, then?"_

 _He held up the stockings. "Place these in the kids' rooms, of course. And Santa can't go without finishing off the spoils left out for him. It would be very rude."_

 _Anna rolled her eyes. "Why does that not surprise me? If you had any will power, you'd put those treats back in the tin."_

" _Ah, but it's the Christmas season," he said. "Diets are for the New Year. Besides, you like that I have a bit of extra meat on my bones. It keeps you warm in the winter."_

" _You have a smart answer for everything. I can see now why your mum said it used to drive her mad."_

" _That hurts. What happened to it being the season of goodwill?"_

" _Oh, be off with you, smartarse. Go and fulfil your duty."_

 _He mock-saluted. "Yes, ma'am."_

 _With that, he limped from the room, carefully cradling the stockings in his arms. He went to the girls' room first, creaking the door open just enough to slip inside. They looked like little angels lying there, little porcelain faces so still and peaceful. His heart swelled in his chest at the sight of them, one dark, one light. Both so very, very beautiful. As quietly as he could, he rested a stocking each against the foot of the beds, ready for them to be discovered when they woke up._

 _His next task took him across the hall to Jack's room. He pushed open the door and stood in the threshold for a moment, drinking in the sight, overwhelmed quite suddenly by the notion that this could be the very last time that he did this for his son. As much as he didn't want it to come to pass, this might be the very last time that Jack went to bed at Christmas so full of excitement for the magic of the season. The loss of Jack's innocence would symbolise yet again just another way that their son was growing up so fast and needing his parents less and less; next year, Jack might not need him to perform this role. As cumbersome as the role might be to some people, to John it held so many positive connotations._

 _If he could bottle this moment, he would._

 _But he couldn't. And however much he didn't want this moment to end, he still had a job to perform. He lightened his step as much as possible and crept into the room, pausing for just a moment more to allow his gaze to linger over his son. Jack who was still a baby, really, with the sandy hair that curled just slightly when it needed a trim, and those big, innocent eyes, and the sweet little face that inspired so much awe in everyone who met him. His room was a mismatch of interests that showed him teetering on the edge between baby and child. One wall was plastered with posters of his favourite football team. He was clutching his favourite teddy in his arms while he slept. His bedside table was a mixture of toy soldiers and strange creatures from a cartoon that he loved. The book that he was trying to read on his own sat on the bed, bookmark hanging out limply, but the most well-loved book in the whole room was sitting on his shelf, a colourful child's book about a hungry caterpillar. John felt a lump in his throat and blinked away the tears that sprang to his eyes out of nowhere. Turning away, he placed the stocking lovingly at the bottom of the bed and backed out of the room. He took a moment to compose himself before returning back downstairs._

" _I thought you'd got lost," Anna said brightly when he entered the kitchen. She was sitting on the worktop, swinging her legs idly as she munched on a piece of gingerbread. "I was thinking that I'd have to finish off all of these on my own."_

" _Hoping for that, more like." John pushed his nostalgic thoughts away and crossed the room to snag a piece of gingerbread for himself. He munched on it. "You know, this is actually pretty good."_

 _She swatted at him. "Bloody cheek of you."_

" _No, I just meant that I thought it would have turned out worse when you had two little helpers who were probably more of a hindrance."_

" _That's the thing about women, John. They're good at adapting and making the best of every situation."_

 _He shook his head as she reached for the generous portion of sherry that had been left out, knocking it back in a few mouthfuls. She wiped her lips on the back of her hand and raised her eyebrows when she caught him staring. "What?"_

" _Nothing. I'm just remembering what happened last Christmas when you had too much sherry. You were decidedly ill."_

" _Not before I showed you a good time, if I remember rightly."_

 _He felt his cheeks heat at that, the memories flooding back. She remembered rightly. Her performance was one he would remember for the rest of his days. He cleared his throat. "Yes well."_

" _Don't be so coy. If you play your cards right, you could be in for a similar performance. I bet you'd like that." Her gaze flickered downwards, a smirk curling her lips. "By the looks of it, you'd like it a lot."_

 _He couldn't find it within himself to be embarrassed. It was pointless. Anna knew him better than anyone else in the world, had intimate knowledge of his biggest dreams, his biggest fears, and all of his likes and dislikes. Their intimacy had always been an extension of the connection he felt deep within his very soul._

" _Come here, you," he growled._

 _Anna leaned back. "And what if I don't want to?"_

" _Stop teasing."_

 _She smirked at him again, licking chocolate from the corner of her mouth. It broke him. Closing the distance between them, he pulled on her hips until she was on the very edge of the counter, nudging her knees apart so that he could stand between them._

" _You are a minx," he said._

" _You always knew I was racy."_

" _Too racy for your own good." And, God help him, for his heart. Everything she did filled him with such reverence._

" _You'd better not be thinking of having your way with me on the kitchen counter."_

" _We've done it before."_

" _Not when there were children around. Or your mother." She shuddered. "If you're hoping to get lucky, we need to take this somewhere more private where we won't be disturbed."_

" _And here you were, claiming that you're racy."_

" _I'm also sensible. It's another trait that men seem to lack."_

" _Keep complimenting me like this, Mrs. Bates, and I'll be putty in your hands. And don't think that I haven't noticed that you've still held out on my 'welcome home' kiss. I'll be filing a complaint of neglect at this rate."_

 _She giggled, draping her arms around his shoulders. "Oh, fine. If you really want that kiss, you can have it. But you can pull the beard down first."_

" _Is it not turning you on?"_

 _She wrinkled her nose. "Not in the slightest."_

" _So you were lying to me when I grew that facial hair for Movember?"_

" _That was different. You kept it nice and close-cropped. And it made you look very sexy. This kind of beard is a big no-no."_

 _He brightened at her words—if there was one thing sure to stroke his ego, it was the knowledge that Anna still found him attractive. He wasn't vain enough to worry about it too often, but the fact remained that he was older than she was, and while she was still in the vibrant prime of her life, he was plodding well over that line. It was reassuring to know that she still found him attractive despite the passage of time._

 _They were thoughts she would scold him for if she knew they were running through his mind, so he pushed them away and focused on the way that she was looking at him, on the sensuous way she was running her hand down his back._

" _I can get rid of the beard," he managed._

" _Good," she whispered, biting invitingly at her bottom lip._

 _It was the final straw. With a growl, he yanked the long, white beard down past his chin and took possession of her mouth with his own. For a very, very long time they didn't surface, simply enjoying the build-up of tension that simmered between them._

* * *

They had been having a very enthusiastic snogging session there in the kitchen. And, at some point, Jack had seen them. _Shit_. How had they not heard his approach? What else might he have heard? Christ, it did not bear thinking about. And yet he had to. He had to know. They had to find a way to fix this.

Anna's cheeks hadn't lost any of their colour.

"Oh, Jack," she said, reaching out to touch him.

"No!" he cried, flinching away from her. "Don't look at me, Mummy! Everything is ruined now! You kissed somebody else and now Daddy is going to leave and I'll be just like my friend Max!"

Ah. So there was the crux of the problem. John remembered Jack telling them about the problems with Max's parents only a few weeks before, after he'd come home from tea at his friend's house.

" _Max says his mummy and daddy don't love each other anymore,"_ Jack had said, looking between them both. _"They was shouting at each other when we was upstairs. We could hear them. They was saying Bad Words to each other. Max says that his daddy is moving out to live somewhere else, and he won't see him every day like he does now. He says he will only see him at the weekend, and maybe only every other weekend."_

At the time, John had only taken it in as unfortunate information, not giving it too much thought beyond that. Divorce was all too frequent these days. Men he'd known in his army days who had been so enviably happy had split from their wives. Some were on their third or fourth. Every day there seemed to be another celebrity split. It was almost mundane.

But it wasn't mundane to the children who were involved, the children who were affected more than anybody else. And, as Anna was so fond of reminding him, Jack took after him. He was sensitive to the goings on around him, and it made perfect sense that he would absorb the woes of his friends and internalise them. But they had to squash that at once. It would not do him any good to sit there thinking that his own family was going to be torn apart.

"I'm not going to leave any of you," John said firmly, reaching out to catch his son's chin, tilting his head so that he was forced to look at him. "I swear to you, Jack. Mummy and I aren't going to get a divorce. We love each other very, very much, and we love you, and Lily, and Grace."

Jack's lip wobbled. "But—"

"There are no 'buts'. I'm not going anywhere. We don't want you worrying about things like that."

"But Mummy _was_ kissing someone else. And that's why Max's mummy and daddy are not staying married. Max says that his daddy called his mummy a whore because she had another boyfriend."

Anna sucked in a breath. "Jack, whatever you do, you mustn't use that word."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Because it's a bad one. I know you're just repeating what you were told and you don't know what it means, but it's not a nice thing to call someone."

"Mummy's right," John agreed. "Max's dad shouldn't have said that around Max. Anyway, never mind that. I think the important matter here is that we address your concerns. And I promise you, nothing is going to change in this house."

"But Mummy still kissed Santa," said Jack, the accusatory edge to his voice biting.

John glanced at Anna. She shrugged helplessly. They were damned if they did and damned if they didn't. But they couldn't allow Jack to continue believing that his mum had done something wrong. The magic of Christmas was already tarnished for him if he believed that Santa had tried to split up his happy family; if they ended up coming clean to him about Santa's nonexistence, well, it was still better than the alternative.

"Jack, look at me," Anna said softly. She reached out to touch him, but he wriggled away from her. "Jack."

It took him a few moments, but reluctantly he yielded to her, his blond head turning in her direction and his blue eyes, the very mirror her hers, meeting hers with undisguised hurt. Anna did not shy away from him.

"It wasn't Santa I was kissing, Jack," she said firmly.

"It was!" he insisted. "I know what Santa looks like, Mummy! It was him! You was kissing him when Daddy wasn't there!"

"No," she repeated. "You see, something happened last night. As you know, Santa is in contact with mummies and daddies across the world because he needs their help in making sure all of your letters reach him so he and the elves can make sure the children's wishes are fulfilled. And yesterday he got in contact with Daddy."

John blinked. Well, this was certainly going in a direction that he hadn't been expecting. He tried to nod and look like he was privy to this already when Jack swivelled his head to look at him suspiciously.

"It's true," Anna insisted. "Santa told us that he wasn't feeling very well when he got to this neighbourhood and he had to fly off home. But obviously he still had some presents to deliver so Daddy offered to do that for him because we didn't want any children to be disappointed on Christmas Day, especially not our own."

"Yes, that's right," said John, not entirely sure that he sounded convincing.

"So you talked to Santa?" said Jack, still sounding disbelieving.

"On the phone. He has the telephone number of every boy and girl in the whole world, but he only rings the mummies and daddies."

"But you were dressed like him."

Thinking fast, John said, "That's right. I had to. Imagine if Santa hadn't called me, and you had woken up to find a strange man in your bedroom. What would you have done?"

"Screamed," Jack conceded.

"Exactly. You would have been scared and would probably have run for us. And the stranger would have been arrested and sent to prison. But we wouldn't want that to happen if he was only doing a job for Santa Claus. So I had to dress up like him." God, this sounded so wrong, but it was the material he had to work with.

"And I was so proud of him that I simply had to give him a kiss when he got back," said Anna. "So that must have been when you crept downstairs. Which you shouldn't have done, you cheeky monkey. You're lucky that it _wasn't_ the real Santa because you could have been in some real trouble."

"Did you ride in the sleigh, Daddy?"

"I did," said John. God help him.

"So you got to see Rudolph and all the others?"

"Yes. They were jolly good. It was easier to control than I thought it might have been."

"And you managed to deliver all the presents."

"I did."

"So you're a hero, Daddy!" For the first time all morning, Jack's eyes were shining with something other than sadness.

"Well, I don't know about that," John said modestly.

"He certainly is," Anna said quickly. "He saved Christmas for all of the children in Downton. Which is why I simply had to kiss him, Santa outfit or not. Every hero has to have the love interest who cheers for them. I thought I played the role very well."

Jack nodded slowly. "So you're not getting a divorce?"

"For the last time, Jack, we're not getting a divorce."

Their son chewed on his lip. "Because…because it wasn't just kissing Santa that made me scared."

John and Anna exchanged frowns. Well, that was something completely unexpected. As far as he was aware, John had never known them to have ever given out any other signs than that they were deliriously content with each other. They rarely argued, and certainly not in front of the kids. They were not the kind of couple who shied away from showing affection for each other in front of their children. Chaste kisses, hugs, snuggles, hand holding, none of it was off limits. So what on earth had they done to give Jack the impression that they were not going to be together for much longer? If it was something serious in their behaviour, then it needed to be addressed at once. They couldn't have their children thinking that they were going to break the family apart at any given moment.

"What else was it, Jacky?" Anna pressed. "Come on, you can tell us. And we'll do our bests to assuage your fears. All right?"

He nodded. "All right. It was…You wouldn't kiss Daddy when he came in yesterday, Mummy. I thought it meant that you were really mad at him. I was scared that you was gonna say that you didn't want us to live all together anymore."

Anna blinked, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "Oh, Jack, no. That was just a joke. A bit of banter."

"Banter?"

"It's kind of like teasing. I was just teasing Daddy by pretending that I didn't want to hug or kiss him. He knew that I wasn't being serious, didn't you, Daddy?"

"Of course I did," he said quickly. "It was just a joke, son. Mummy still wants to hug me and kiss me." They'd done plenty of both in a very intimate setting just a few hours ago, after all.

"So you were just teasing?"

"I was just teasing."

"It wasn't real?"

"It wasn't real, Jack. I love your daddy very, very much. We're very happy, I promise you."

Slowly, Jack nodded. "Okay." His voice was but a whisper. "I'm sorry if I was horrible, Mummy."

"Oh, love, you could never be horrible. You were upset and frightened. It's understandable. But we don't want you to worry about that anymore. We're a big, happy family, and that's how it's always going to be. Okay?"

"Yes."

"And I assume you're the one who moved the stockings from the rooms?" John asked, suddenly remembering the mystery of that morning. He glanced around, but couldn't see them anywhere.

Jack scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I didn't want anything to do with Santa in the house because I was angry with him. I sneaked in to Lily and Grace's room and took theirs too and hid them all in my wardrobe."

Ah. So _that_ was where they were. "But you're not angry with him now, right? So I suppose that means you can take the stockings from your wardrobe and you can open the presents inside them."

"Yeah," said Jack, and wriggled out of his blanket fortress with a spring in his step. John leaned back on the bed, smiling in satisfaction. It was so good to see his son smiling again. There was nothing on earth worse than seeing his child in pain. He was glad that they had managed to avert a crisis.

"Tell you what, you take that downstairs," said Anna. "Granny is with Lily and Grace. We'll join you in just a moment and then we can watch you open your presents and see what Santa left you. How does that sound?"

"Good," said Jack, and rushed over to plant a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She held him close for a moment, burying her nose in the side of his neck ad breathing in deeply. He held her just as tightly, his little arms wrapped around her. John felt yet another lump in his throat at the sight of his small son. Everyone always thought that children were so robust, but in reality they were just as fragile as everyone else. Perhaps even more so. He patted him gently on the back.

"Go on," he said softly. "Go and join your sisters. Go and be excited. And we'll be down with you in a minute."

Jack slipped free of Anna's embrace and obeyed, taking the stockings with him. John waited until the thud of his feet on the stairs was distant, and then turned to Anna. For a moment, they simply stared silently at one another. At last, Anna let out a nervous giggle.

"Oh, God, what have we done?" she groaned.

"What do you mean?"

"We've gone and made our predicament ten times worse. We'll never want him to stop believing in Santa now. Not because we want to keep him a baby forever, but because we won't ever want him to realise that we lied to him because he caught us in the middle of some kinky foreplay."

"How is a kiss kinky foreplay?" he protested. "Besides, that was all your idea. I was geared up to admit the truth before you jumped in with the heroic Santa-replacement story."

Anna blushed, but ignored the latter part of his sentence. "Oh, please. We'll just have to pray to God that he didn't hear your quip about Santa's Little Helper."

John felt his cheeks burning and cleared his throat. "Thank you for reminding me of that. On that note, I think we should head downstairs."

"Yes, Mr. Claus," said Anna, and squealed when he reached out to swat her backside as she passed. Giggling, she fled from the room, and John shook his head, grinning reluctantly. At least that was one nightmare they had managed to avert on Christmas Day.

* * *

Everything was a much happier affair after that. All three of the children took great delight in the presents that Santa had left for them, and John, Anna, and his mother exclaimed and cooed over every single thing in Oscar-worthy performances. Lily was slightly disappointed that her dream of getting a real life pony hadn't come true, but she seemed more than happy with her consolation prize of a cute cuddly toy replacement. Every other gift went down a storm, and Bramley had the time of her life pouncing on all of the paper as it flew around her.

Afterwards, it was time to shower, dress, and face the rest of the day. Whilst Anna sorted out the kids, John set to work in the kitchen, chopping the vegetables and making sure the basted turkey was cooking nicely in the oven. It was rather soothing work.

As he was preparing the potatoes, his mother slipped into the room.

"Need any help?" she asked.

"I think I've got it, thanks," he replied. "You just take it easy."

Rather than nodding and retreating, however, she pulled up a chair at the table, scrutinising him intently. He tried to ignore that calculating look. He knew exactly what was on her mind. The longer he could avoid it, the better.

Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid her for very long at all.

"So," she said, in that casual way of hers that let him know that he was in for a proper grilling, "you managed to sort things out with Jack."

"We did."

"That was lucky. It would have been a shame if he'd been upset all day at Christmas."

John put down his knife. "I don't know why you're trying to talk in a veiled manner, Mother. I know as well as you do that Jack told you everything."

"I do. And I don't mind admitting that I had absolutely no idea what to say to him. So, what did you tell him?"

"Does it matter?" John said, resuming the cutting of the potatoes.

"No, of course not. I was just curious."

"All you need to know is that we sorted it."

"Jack would tell me if I asked him."

John glanced over at her crossly. "Are you blackmailing me by using your own grandson as a weapon?"

His mother placed a withered hand over her heart. "I don't know how you can accuse me of such things. I just want to know how you put your son's mind at ease. I don't think there's anything wrong with that, especially when he was so upset that he believed his mother was dallying with Santa behind his father's back."

John felt his cheeks burning anew. What was it about his mother that could reduce him to a boy of ten all over again, embarrassed by the idea of any kind of intimate chat with her?

"You really ought to be more careful, you know. I know you enjoy a very happy life together—the kids are a bit of a giveaway—but there's a time and a place for all of that, and that should be kept to the bedroom. I think we'd all rather not know that you had some kind of Santa roleplay going on there."

John threw the potato peelings in the bin with rather more force than was necessary. "Don't be ridiculous. There was no such thing as a Santa roleplay going on. Is Anna not allowed to kiss me in our own kitchen now?"

"Of course she is. But I've seen the two of you together, boyo, and don't think I don't know. It must have been getting pretty heated down here. You need to be more careful. You have small children around."

"I am _not_ discussing my sex life with you," he retorted grumpily. "If you have nothing constructive to say, don't say it."

"I thought what I was saying was _very_ constructive. The last thing you want to do is scar the poor bairns for life. Imagine if you'd ever seen me and your father—"

"Enough," said John. "I don't want to ever think about that. I'm quite happy to spend my life believing that I was a miracle conception, as I'm sure our kids will when they're old enough to understand the cycle of life."

His mother tutted. "You've always been the same. Always had to have the last word. Well, never mind. What's done is done. But I guarantee the poor bugger is going to be traumatised when he's old enough to work out what his mum and dad were doing the year he thought you were Santa Claus."

"If he's like most children, he will never, ever bring it up. We'll survive it. Besides, we're hoping that he'll believe in Santa for at least another year." And hopefully they could fill his head with so many good memories that he would never give this Christmas another thought.

His mother shook her head, a shrewd smile playing around her mouth. "If you say so, son. And as much as I might disapprove, I must commend you for your quick thinking. It'll be a good story to take back to my bridge club in the New Year."

John groaned. "You'd better not tell another living soul. If Robert ever finds out, I'll never live it down. He'll have wisecracks about magic sacks for years to come, and I don't think I'll survive them."

"We all have our burdens to bear," she said sagely. "That just so happens to be yours. Now, smile, Johnny. It's Christmas Day. You're surrounded by your very happy family. It's a wonderful life."

John felt his lips tugging upwards in a reluctant smile. As frustrating as she could be sometimes, his mother had hit the nail on the head. Life _was_ wonderful, and nothing had made it more so than being surrounded by his treasured family.

"Daddy! Come and play with my pony!"

Lily's excited shout from the next room was commanding, and soon she appeared in the doorway, said pony clutched in her hands, her brother and sister hot on her heels as they all jostled for attention.

Life was more than wonderful.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The Christmas dinner was a huge success, though it was a struggle to get the kids to eat their vegetables. There were squabbles about who should get which prize in the Christmas crackers. Wine was knocked over by a flailing elbow, staining the table cloth and scattering the chairs as everyone stood up to avoid being covered in the cold red liquid. The tidying up after the dinner took an agonising amount of time, everyone's least favourite task. Games followed, Jack, Lily, and Grace all eager to experiment with their new board games. Turkey sandwiches followed later in the evening and, when Grace started to nod off just one too many times, Anna announced that it was time for bed. This was met with protests from all three of the children, but John and Anna remained firm. They had had a very early start, and the excitement of the day was bound to catch up with them. It was time that they sleep now. Their toys would still be there for them in the morning; the magic of Christmas wouldn't be over just yet. Together, they worked to get all three of them in pyjamas and tucked them all in, leaning down to press kisses to their foreheads and cheeks. Grace was out before her head touched the pillow. Lily was sound asleep before they made it out of the door. Across the hall, Jack's eyes were drooping when they closed the door behind them. He would not be far behind his sisters.

"I fancy getting my pyjamas on now," said Anna as they stood on the landing.

"Perfect idea," John agreed. There was nothing he enjoyed more than snuggling with Anna on the sofa in their pyjamas. It was a domesticated scene that he had longed for for years. Nothing said 'family' in the same way that a roaring fire did, a television flickering in the background, the woman he loved in the circle of his arms.

They changed for bed and headed back downstairs. His mother had flicked over to the soaps, and was engrossed in some explosive confrontation between a factory owner, his wife, and his bit on the side. John shook his head and slumped down on the sofa, shutting his eyes. Anna took her place beside him, her head heavy and reassuring against his chest. He tuned out the sounds of the over-the-top screaming and concentrated on the sensation of having Anna in his arms instead. What perfection it was.

* * *

"John."

He blinked his eyes open, a little disorientated. Around him, the room was in darkness. The only light came from the dancing flames of the fire.

"What happened?" he mumbled stupidly, and heard Anna giggle.

"You fell asleep, silly," she said, resting her chin against his shoulder.

"I…fell asleep?"

"And missed all of that dramatic soap action."

"What time is it?"

"After eleven. You missed that period drama too."

"Shame," said John, not meaning it in the slightest. It had never really ben his cup of tea, but Anna loved it. "Was it any good?"

"Yes," she sighed. "It was so romantic."

"Romantic, eh?" said John, snugging her closer to kiss her temple. "I can get on board with that."

"I'll bet you can," she said, trying to sound exasperated and failing. "Now, how about you help me tidy up down here before we go up and we'll see what we can do about those romantic feelings of yours?"

He sprang to his feet. "Has Mother gone to bed?"

"Yes. She went after the period drama finished."

"So we'll have to be very quiet."

"You're very adept at that, I bet."

"I'll have you know that I've never sneaked a girl in my room before when I was living with my mother. Mostly because she could sniff out dissent a mile off and she'd have had me by the ear."

"So not so much gentlemanly as self-preserving."

"Well, what about you? I'll bet you did your own fair share of sneaking around."

"I was a model daughter."

"I'll bet you were," John growled, sidling up behind her and sliding his hands over her hips as she picked up the used mugs of hot chocolate. "So it was only after meeting me that you became a naughty girl?"

"What can I say? You corrupted me."

He chuckled against her neck, snugging her closer. "And yet I have very distinct memories of you having your way with me that first time in my flat."

"Frustrate a girl for two years and that's what'll happen," Anna said primly.

"God, I love you when you're sassy," said John.

She shifted against him pointedly. "I can tell."

He should have been embarrassed. He was not. "I love you even when you're going around kissing other men."

Anna groaned, pushing him away. "Don't you start with that. I'd like to bury that as deep in my memories as possible. How mortifying. Poor Jack."

"Poor us, too. He told Mother. She's never going to let us live that down. I'm just praying that Robert never finds out. He'd have a field day."

"Mary would be scarred for life."

"I suppose that's one bonus. She hates the idea of us having sex so much that she'll do whatever she can to avoid it."

"It's a weapon I've used many times before when I've wanted her to shut up about something."

"See? You _are_ a naughty girl. Always machinating some plan…"

She smirked at him. "How about you get upstairs and I'll show you what else I've been concocting?"

He swallowed hard at the look in her eyes. "What about the pots?"

"You can leave them until the morning, if you'd like."

There was no choice to make. "I'll see you up there." He hurried out of the room as fast as his gammy leg would allow.

* * *

"God," John breathed out into the humid night air. "God."

Anna was splayed on her back on the mattress beside him, the quilt thrown away from her stark naked body. "I was hoping that it was my name you were going to be saying."

Dazedly, John shook his head. "I thought I had been a few moments ago." Not that he'd probably made much sense, garbled and overwhelmed as he had been. In some marriages, passion dimmed over time, but theirs never had.

Anna gave a contented smile, stretching herself out. "I suppose that's a compliment."

"It is. And you looked fantastic in that lingerie, by the way."

"I think you mentioned that several times."

"Well, it was true. Deserves to be reiterated." It did. She _had_ looked fantastic, like some siren from a myth. She had simply captivated him, hypnotised him. The silk material had clung in all the right places, left so little to the imagination, enhanced her beauty in every way. With her hair tumbling down around her breasts in soft curls, it had been reinforced yet again that he was a bloody lucky man. The luckiest in the whole world. She made him feel so many different things. At his lowest ebb, he had believed that his life was over. Since meeting her, he had started to believe in everything. That was the power she held over him. He just hoped that she truly understood the surface of his overpowering feelings for her, even if she would never be able to fathom the depths.

Anna shifted now, changing her position just slightly, and John turned his head on the pillow so that he could look at her. It had been unspoken between them for a long time. Neither of them had dared to say anything aloud for fear of jinxing it, but they were both hoping for another baby. They had stopped using birth control by mutual agreement, and John's anticipation rose with every month that passed. There was still time. Anna was still young enough to have more children. He wanted them now before he started to feel too old for the job. They had both desperately wanted a big family. Three children were more than enough, but he had grown up an only child and a rather lonely one at that sometimes. Anna had had her sister, but her own childhood had had traumatic obstacles for her to navigate, and that had resulted in her not being as close to her sibling as she ought to have been. Neither of them had wanted the same for their own children, and so they had vowed to fill the family home with as much love and laughter as possible. One day soon, John hoped that they would be blessed with good news once again.

"I do love you," he said, reaching out to press his palm over her belly. She rested her hand on top of his, stroking her thumb over the back.

"I love you too," she uttered. "So much."

"I think we've had another successful Christmas, even if it didn't go quite according to plan."

She snorted. "I don't think it could have got much worse."

"Why not? We averted a crisis. We saved Christmas."

Anna giggled. "Silly beggar. There was nothing to save. Jack would have been all right. It might have just been a minor setback. In fact, I'm wondering if we did the right thing in lying to him. I mean, he's going to find out the truth sooner or later…"

John groaned. "Not you too. Mother was lecturing me about that earlier. And it was all your idea in the first place."

Anna sat up slightly on her elbows, tilting her head to the side. "Was she?"

John huffed slightly, hiding his smile; she was determinedly ignoring the truth of his statement once again. "Yes. It was a most harrowing experience."

"Maybe she was right."

He did smile openly now. "Are you admitting that you were wrong?"

"No," Anna said staunchly. "Of course not. I'm just…trying to see things from another perspective."

He'd never win against her. John shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I understand what she was trying to say, but I still think we did the right thing. I think it would have ruined his Christmas entirely to find out that Santa isn't real. Imagine if that was you, and you'd been so excited for so long thinking that you were going to get presents from him, only to find out on _Christmas Day_ that the whole thing had been a lie."

"I guess that would have been pretty horrible," Anna conceded.

"At least this way we can break it to him gently later on in the year. Or maybe the year after, if we can get away with it. Hopefully that will give him more time to forget that he thought he saw you kissing Santa."

Anna shrugged. "Well, he knows now that I was kissing you now and it's not as if that is unusual, so I don't see what difference that's going to make."

"It makes a huge difference. Right now he thinks you were kissing me because you thought I was a hero. When he's older he'll probably be overcome with horror thinking you have a weird Santa kink."

She shuddered. "I _don't_ have a weird Santa kink, thank you very much. Though I suppose you have a point. I still remember being told that Santa wasn't real. It almost destroyed everything I believed in."

"How old were you?" John asked, moving to pull her closer to his side. Now that the sweat was cooling on his body, he was feeling decidedly cold.

Anna scrunched up her nose. "Eight. I accidentally caught my grandma helping my mum to sort through the presents. It was just another blow in a shitty couple of years."

"I'm sorry," said John, meaning it on more than just the one level. He hated that Anna had gone through so many hard times. She was the kindest, most selfless woman he had ever met. No one deserved to live through traumatic times, but Anna deserved it even less than most. She gave so much to helping others around her, and it killed him to think of the things that she had suffered.

"What about you?" she asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

He gave a bitter snort. "Oh, I was about five. My father thought it made me a weak baby to believe in Santa, so he quickly disabused me of the notion."

"That's awful."

"I never let him know that it had bothered me, but when I was on my own I confess that I cried. I felt that I'd lost a piece of my innocence." He'd already been forced to grow up faster than he should have, and that had been just another jagged piece of the broken glass that had shredded through his childhood.

Anna shook her head. "Vile. I don't know why anyone would want to crush their child's dreams like that."

"He got off on power," said John. "Bastard that he was. I always swore that I would never turn out like he did."

"And you didn't."

"Came very close to it, though, didn't I?"

"Not at all," she said fiercely. "I'm not surprised you lost yourself for a little while. Almost anyone would."

"You never did."

"That was different."

"Not as far as I'm concerned. What you went through was worse."

"Let's not compare traumatic childhoods."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm talking about it. Not after such a happy day."

"Yes, let's leave it where it deserves to be. In the past. We're different people than we were then. We've both moved on and beaten our demons. So let's focus on that instead."

"You're right, as ever."

"It's the perks of being a woman."

He chuckled, rolling her on to her side so that he could snuggle up against her. "The perks of being a faery, more like."

"Behave yourself. I'm exhausted. You've got all the reward you're going to get out of me tonight."

"Duly noted." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and heaved a sigh. They would have to move in a moment to redress, and it was something he was loath to let happen. But good sense had to prevail. Reluctantly, he let her go to feel around for his discarded boxers and Anna's pyjamas, and they separated long enough to redress before coming back together. He tucked her under his chin and relished the solidity of her against him, and the flowery smell of her hair. That, at least, was still the same as it had always been. Still felt like coming home.

He hoped that it would never change.

* * *

On Boxing Day, John awoke to the darkness. Blinking blearily, he felt around for his phone and pressed the home button, lighting up the screen just long enough to check the time. Half past seven. Groaning, he dropped his head back to the pillow and closed his eyes. On mornings like this, when the air was bitingly cold and he was so warm with Anna's body still entwined with his own, he did not want to get up. But his wife still slumbered peacefully beside him, the breaths issuing from her mouth deep and slow, and he knew that the house would soon start to stir around them. She always complained that she never got to wake up natural, a sacrifice that she had happily made for children and yet one she lamented anyway, and he thought that it would be nice to give her that today if he could. Soon the children would be up, and they would likely come barrelling in here to rouse them. If they found him already gone, it would deter them from waking Anna. Or so he hoped.

Pressing a soft kiss to Anna's cheek and squeezing her tight for just a moment more, John slid out of bed and padded across the room, shivering, as he searched for his gown. The cold was bitter, and it made him loath to leave the warm bedsheets all over again. He cracked open the bedroom door and limped downstairs, making a pit stop to switch on the heating. The pipes creaked and groaned as they sprang to life. Hopefully it wouldn't take long for the house to warm through.

That task complete, he made his way to start his second: breakfast. Specifically, breakfast in bed for his beautiful Anna, his stalwart mother, and for Jack, Lily, and Grace if they wanted it. It was important not to make a habit out of it—mealtimes were to be taken around the table together, as a family—but John could see no harm in treating them like princes and princesses at such a special time of the year. He was not known for being a cook—before meeting Anna, his meals were simple at the best of time, and microwavable more often than not—but he was always willing to try his best. He could still remember the first time he had tried to cook something to impress Anna. He'd sweated through his clothes and had managed to undercook the chicken and overcook the rice, and had spilled wine all over because his hand was trembling so much, but Anna had claimed that it was the best thing she had ever eaten. It was a blatant lie, and he had fallen even more in love with her.

It held a special place in his heart for other reasons, too, for Anna had spent the night with him for the very first time. It had been magical to him, better than any of the thousand times he had guiltily imagined before that.

Pushing them away, grinning to himself, he started his breakfast preparations. Anna had bought a couple of strange tins of croissants, which the packaging promised were easy to make. He unrolled the pastry and cut along the designated perforated lines, shaping them as best he could in to something that he hoped resembled a croissant. The instructions stated that they would only take ten minutes in the oven, so he busied himself with a pot of tea and glasses of juice while he waited, taking butter and condiments out and spreading them across the work surface. When they were cooked, he took them out of the oven and prepared them just as each member of his family liked. There were too many to take up all at once, so he started with Anna, balancing his tray carefully as he tiptoed back upstairs. He found her as he'd left her, sound asleep. Smiling—she was simply too adorable—he placed the tray on her bedside table and leaned down to feather a kiss against her forehead. The delicious breakfast fumes might work their magic and coax her back to the waking world. If not, well, it would still be there for her when she was ready.

His mother was next on the agenda, and he repeated the process. She was sitting up in bed with her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, a mystery novel she had got for Christmas sitting on her lap.

"Ah, Johnny," she said when she saw him. "What a nice surprise."

He bowed his head. "I am but your humble servant. And I like to treat my best girl when I can."

"Oh, look at you, you charmer. I always knew that there was something wrong when you tried to sweet talk me like that."

"Actually, there's nothing wrong. I simply want to compliment my mother. Is that suddenly a crime?"

His mother narrowed her eyes at him. "I'd say possibly, but then again that breakfast looks lovely so I don't suppose I can mind too much."

John limped over to the bed and laid it over her lap. She looked over his offerings with a critical eye. "I'll say this for Anna, she tried to whip you in to shape with your cooking. I could never do a thing with you. I always saw it as my crowning disappointment."

John snorted. "In all the ways I failed you, you see my inability to cook as the most offensive one? I'll never make sense of women."

His mother picked up her croissant and bit the end off primly. "That's exactly what we intend. I thought you might have worked that out by now. I feel sorry for you, sometimes, being surrounded by so many women. It must be baffling."

"At least I have Jack. We can be baffled by women together."

"Speaking of your boy, how is he this morning?"

"I've still got to take his breakfast in. I'm sure he's fine. He seemed a lot happier when we tucked him up in bed." He'd given them each a big bear hug and had pressed his cheek to theirs. It had brought tears to John's eyes. For all of Jack's insistence that he was growing up, sometimes it was clear that he still needed his parents as much as he had when he'd been a babe. He hoped that didn't change for many, many more years to come.

"That's one thing, at least," said his mother. "I hated seeing him so upset."

"You and me both. At least it's over." And yet there was still something that was playing on his mind, something that had plagued his thoughts as he'd lain quietly with Anna in the dead of night, listening to her soft, peaceful breathing and feeling the warm, reassuring weight of her tucked close to his body. There was a conversation that he still needed to have with his son, man to man, without Anna's knowledge. Just the mere thought of it made him feel sick to the stomach, but it was one he had to have nevertheless, and if nothing else, Jack was old enough to be given some advice. "Anyway, I'd better go and deliver the last of the breakfasts. I'll see you downstairs later. We've got another fun day of board games ahead of us."

His mother chuckled. "I can hardly wait. At least there's the buffet to look forward to."

It was John's favourite part of Christmas. It was nice to simply slow down after the hectic nature of Christmas Day, to enjoy being with their children and having no guilt about being completely and utterly lazy. And, later on in the afternoon, they would all pull together to create a nice little feast for themselves. The kids loved it because it was different to the meals they had the rest of the year, and they were all too eager to get involved, pouring crisps and nibbles in plastic bowls while Anna supervised the things cooking in the oven and John made sandwiches. It was a nice way to bond and pull everything together, and John treasured the time. They'd eat in the sitting room in front of a Christmas film, and afterwards he would insist that his wife and his mother relaxed while he took care of the cleaning up. He'd listen to the sounds of their chatter from the kitchen and count his blessings that he'd had them for another year.

"Right, anyway," he said, before he could start to feel too maudlin. "I don't want the rest of the breakfasts going too cold. Enjoy yours."

He left her there, eating her croissant whilst turning back to her book, and he headed for the girls' room. They were just waking up, and he presented their breakfasts to them with a flourish, as if he was a servant waiting on his favourite princesses. They giggled at his flamboyancy and scrambled out of bed to fling their arms around him.

"Careful," he warned. "I don't want to drop these all over you. How about you get back in bed and eat them there, like proper royalty, hmm? Just whatever you do, don't drop crumbs or jam on your bedding. Mummy will be very cross with me if you do."

"We won't, Daddy," Lily promised, ever the optimist. "Where is Mummy?"

"She's still in bed. But let's not wake her up just yet. She works so hard all year for us. It'll be nice if we let her sleep in for a while."

"Okay," said Lily.

"We be good," Grace added.

"Good girls. I'm just going to see your brother. Remember what I said about not waking Mummy. I'll come back to read to you soon if you want."

"Yes," Lily said eagerly.

"My book?" said Grace.

Lily pulled a face. "But that's for babies!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"How about we decide when I come back?" John said hastily. "Or perhaps I can read a little of both of your books. How does that sound?"

"Okay, I guess," said Lily reluctantly.

"Excellent. Now, no fighting whilst I'm gone, otherwise I might change my mind. Be as quiet as church mice."

The girls giggled at the turn of phrase but nodded. Relieved that World War Three wasn't about to erupt over reading material, John slipped away. He just had one tray to fetch now.

He knocked on Jack's door, balancing it all as best he could.

"Come in," called Jack.

Taking a deep breath, John pushed the door open. Much like his grandma, Jack was sitting up in bed, his newest book open on his lap, Bramley curled up beside him. His hair was falling messily into his face, much like Anna's did when she was absorbed in a task. He was struck yet again at just how strikingly similar to her he was, and all the more handsome because of it.

"Hey," he said softly. "I've brought you something."

Jack glanced up, his eyes alight. "Breakfast?"

"Croissants with butter, just how you like them."

"Cool," Jack exclaimed, laying his book aside. John limped over to the bed, giving up the tray as Jack took it from his hands.

"Can I sit with you?" he asked.

"Sure," said Jack, already munching away.

John sat himself down with a groan, stretching out his leg. "I was thinking that we might have a chat while it's just the two of us, man to man."

"Okay," said Jack. "What did you want to chat about?"

"I was thinking about the conversation we had yesterday," he said. "The one we had with Mummy. And it got me thinking about something. Now, what I'm about to tell you must never leave the two of us, all right? It's got to be our little secret."

"Okay," Jack said again, frowning now. "What is it?"

John debated what he was going to say for a moment. But there was no real easy way of saying it, so he thought it would be best to plough on and get it over and done with. "Yesterday, I know you were very upset at the idea of Mummy kissing someone else…"

Jack's mouth tightened at once. "Yes."

"But what if one day there's a reason for her to?"

"What do you mean?" Jack said, his voice rising an octave in fear. "You said you wasn't getting a divorce!"

"And we're not," John said firmly. "I love your mummy very, very much, and I wouldn't ever want to leave her. And Mummy feels the same way. But if something was to happen to me…"

Now Jack's eyes were huge. "What? Is something going to happen? You're not ill, are you, Daddy?"

Christ, he was ballsing this up good and proper. "No! No, Jack, I'm fine. Never better. But you have to know that life is unpredictable and we don't always know if something is going to happen. So if it did…well, I would want Mummy to move on and be happy. I wouldn't want her to be sad forever. And neither would you, would you?"

"No," Jack conceded.

"And if something did happen to me, one day she might find someone else who made her smile. And I would want her to. I would want her to find love and happiness because she deserves it. But if she thought that it would upset you, or if you were against it, she might not try to find happiness. And it might sound selfish, but I would want you to let her. If she found someone else, it wouldn't have to mean that he was replacing me as your dad. But I would want you to give him the opportunity to make Mummy happy. You're the oldest. You lead by example. Your sisters worship you. If they saw you accepting it, they would too. It's a horrible thing to have to think about, I understand that, but it's these kinds of things that will one day make you a man. You will always, _always_ be number one in Mummy's heart. But I would need you to be there for her, too. That's one way I would need you to be. I'd need you to let her know that it was okay to move on, and okay for her to be happy again. She's probably more likely to listen to you than she is to me."

"I wouldn't like that," Jack admitted quietly. He'd put his croissant down now, his blue eyes burning. "I wouldn't want another man trying to be my friend and be my daddy."

John sighed. "We all have to do things in life that we don't like, son. Believe me, I know it's not a nice thought. But if Mummy told me tomorrow that she wanted to be with someone else I would let her go, because I love her more than anything else. I just need you to promise me that if a day ever comes when I'm not here anymore, you will do the right thing by her. Mummy is strong and she'd be cross with me if she knew we were having this conversation, but I think it's important that you look after her too. Accepting someone else in her life would be the best way of doing that. Would you promise me that, Jack? Man to man, would you promise to make sure she never felt guilty if she moved on?"

For a moment, John thought that Jack would refuse, cry. He would not have blamed him if he had; he felt rather like that himself at the mere thought of it. But as much as he _didn't_ want to think about it, the facts remained. He was a good deal older than Anna was. She might still be relatively young when he died, certainly young enough to find love again. He would not want her to struggle trying to bring up three children alone. Nor would he ever want her to feel any kind of crippling guilt if she did meet someone else. She always told him that he was the love of her life, but that didn't mean she couldn't carve out happiness elsewhere. It didn't mean she couldn't love someone else. And he would never, ever want her to deny herself out of some misguided loyalty to him. He knew just how much she loved him. He would not want her to prove it long after he'd gone by spending her life alone. Jack could be her voice of reason—she often complained that he , John, was far too stubborn for his own good, but his stubbornness was nothing compared to hers. She would be so busy taking care of others that she wouldn't stop to think about caring for herself, and that was one way that Jack could do that.

"Here," he said now, doing his best to lighten the mood. "That croissant's not going to eat itself. I don't want to put you off your breakfast. Come on, eat up." He reached across and snagged a piece of the pastry for himself, pulling Jack closer to his side. "Your old dad isn't going anywhere for a long, long time, I promise you. I've got to keep you all in line, so cheer up."

"I just don't like thinking about that," Jack sighed.

John pressed a kiss to his mop of hair. "I know, darling. Believe me, I don't either. So let's leave it to one side now, hmm? We don't have to bring it up ever again. I just wanted to have that chat with you while we are alone. I know it upset you yesterday when you thought Mummy had kissed someone else, and I think it's important that we talk about it. I wouldn't ever want you blaming Mummy for moving on and being happy. She will spend every minute of her life trying to do what's best for you and Lily and Grace. Sometimes we have to be grown up enough to think about what's best for her as well. Okay?"

"Okay," said Jack, and although John could tell that he was far from happy, he had at least accepted it without tears or resentment. He kissed his hair again.

"Good boy," he said. "I do love you so much, you know. You make me proud every day. Now, what do you say to joining me in the girls' room? I promised to read to them and I don't want them getting too fidgety."

"They like baby books," Jack complained, but John knew it was more for show than belief.

"You can help me narrate."

"Maybe." But John could tell that his son was weakening. It was the same for any boy, whether little like Jack or fully grown: fickle and proud as they were, they simply could not help but want to be admired by girls, whether that was in the form of a sister or a lover.

"Have a think about it," he said, pretending not to already know what the outcome was. "I'll go and see the girls. You finish your breakfast and decided whether you want to join us or not."

Jack nodded, and John left him to it, hoping that his work for the day was done.

* * *

Boxing Day passed as peacefully as Christmas Day had once the storm had passed. There was nothing more rewarding than spending a sedate day with loved ones, and John was determined to treasure every single second, no matter what. No one knew how much longer they had on earth, but it was the thought of his own mortality that had made him more determined than ever to make the most of every precious moment he had left. God willing, he had many, many more years ahead of him, but there was no harm in seizing the day and making the most of it. Before Anna, he had never thought he would ever feel that way again. She had shown him that living a life in fear was no way to live at all.

Because, once again, he had a lot to be grateful for this Christmas. He had three adoring children. A mother who continued to fight against the perils of old age. And a wife who gave him everything, who simply took his breath away with everything she did. Their Christmas might not have gone off in the perfect way that they had planned, but, John thought, between the two of them they had managed to work some miracles.

It could have been a nightmare, but they had turned it in to yet another dream. John couldn't wait to live it all over again in a year's time.

* * *

 **A/N:** (On an unrelated note, I have a personal update coming in a few days, so if you are interested in hearing about it, check out my profile in the New Year.)


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